


The Nizam of Hyderabad, Chapter 4: Tyche's Rudder

by SirJosephBanksFRS



Series: The Nizam of Hyderabad [4]
Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirJosephBanksFRS/pseuds/SirJosephBanksFRS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Stephen set out in <i>Surprise</i> from Shelmerston for Calcutta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nizam of Hyderabad, Chapter 4: Tyche's Rudder

Killick backed into the great cabin with his new mate, Smythe, an old shipmate from _Implacable_ , bearing a tray with a coffee pot, two cups, two saucers, a sugar bowl full of cubed Demerara sugar, spoons, a cream pitcher and a plate of shortbread. He put the tray down on a corner of the table at which Jack was seated, the majority of it being covered with stacks of papers and ledgers.

“We have the very freshest cream and a tin of extra fancy shortbread, your Honour, made by Mrs. McKinney, the gunner’s wife.” Killick said, in what was as much of a sweet tone as he was capable. Killick’s spirits were noticeably elevated and Stephen thought he must be tired of life ashore as well.

“Thankee, Killick.” Jack said and Killick made his obedience and left. Jack poured coffee for himself and Stephen and handed Dr. Maturin the cup and the saucer. Stephen stood and took two cubes of Demerara sugar and placed them gently in his cup and sat down. Jack took a sip of the coffee.  
  
"This whole enterprise is most hellish irregular." Jack said frowning. "Irregular" was a word of the very strongest disapprobation for Jack Aubrey. He sat looking at the stacks of papers before him. His new clerk had was not on board, nor the purser for the moment. “I had thought given the circumstances that there would be less of this red tape to deal with but it seems I was in error. That and goddamned meetings: how I hate an official meeting.” Jack said bitterly, stirring his coffee and then swallowing a mouthful behind a wedge of shortbread.

Jack had attended more meetings at Whitehall over this voyage than he had ever recalled for any voyage, all for what had seemed to him on the face of it a very simple proposition. The proposition had become more complex with every meeting it seemed. Mr. Adam was to be conveyed to Calcutta with the utmost secrecy and dispatch. _Surprise_ would be travelling as a private yacht, Stephen's private yacht, though oddly, a letter of marque and exception of impressment would be provided to expedite their voyage in case of any problem, no matter how unlikely. The only threat that was foreseeable were pirates, but it was very unlikely that any pirate afloat would dare to take on _Surprise._ She would be carrying her guns and powder and the Admiral would exercise her as he saw fit with his crew of hand-picked man of wars men, with the ability to offer commission in the crew of the _Ganges_ on the way home, if they so desired. The crew would have no problem believing Jack to be exercising the guns for the purpose of keeping her in good trim, should any trouble arise, no matter how unlikely that eventuality. No, they would not have to be anything like 1813-ready with three broadsides in less than four minutes, but no one would find it hard to believe that Jack Aubrey was not interested in sailing with a bunch of swabs who could not fire a gun.

Admiral Aubrey had no problem obtaining a crew, once he and Stephen had appeared in Shelmerston. The terms of the voyage had been explained to them, as well as the opportunity to crew in the new second rate that Jack would be commanding once they rose Bombay. Leaving from Shelmerston gave him the ability to handpick much of the crew for the _Ganges_. Peace or no peace, no former shipmates truly believed Lucky Jack Aubrey to be out merely for a pleasure cruise. Something was afoot despite any protestations to the contrary. There was no problem with making _Surprise's_ complement, indeed, many had to be turned away. They would not have their true full complement as they would have no Marines nor midshipmen and no real ship's boys -- a dozen oldsters who were already rated as Able were the youngest on board and the youngest of them was fourteen. Two hundred and twenty, Jack reckoned, would be more than enough, would give him the base for a crew for _Ganges_ , if they were any good, and a crew for Tom to bring _Surprise_ home. He was pleased with his warrant officers, all of whom he either knew personally or who came with sterling recommendations.

"Indeed." Stephen said, looking over stacks of papers and books he had been provided with, which were but a small part of the whole, the rest being stored down in his cabin on the lower deck, which he was using as a closet. He had suffered through far more meetings than had Jack, taking in some instances multiple meetings on the same day with different officials of government. He had lost count of how many meetings. There had barely been four days for him to carve out to go to Paris and back to make his presentation to _L’Institut_ and he was most aggrieved by that fact and the fact that Jack had been forced to stay in Britain, dealing with the endless arrangements to be made with the ship and the Admiralty. Stephen was also greatly concerned by his ever-growing role in the mission. He had thought his primary purpose, one he could embrace quite happily, was to pose as the self-indulgent natural philosopher, the ostensible public _raison d'être_ for the voyage. He had now been asked to compile large amounts of intelligence upon reaching Calcutta and he had no idea of how to decline the proposition without dishing the entire enterprise, an eventuality he would never countenance and thereby disappoint Jack. The importance of the assignments had been put to him in the most forceful terms and Stephen hoped the entire project might be reduced to half a dozen interviews to determine what exactly was the situation with the Nizam, William Palmer and Company, Lord Hastings and various and assorted East India Company officials.

"I do not see how we are to convincingly dissimulate a lazy, languorous voyage of scientific exploration using _Surprise_ as a yacht whilst simultaneously losing not a minute to get this Mr. Adam to Calcutta." Stephen said, after a sip of his coffee.

"Poor old Stephen, you may come back in _Surprise_ however as pokily as you might." Stephen looked sharply at Jack and frowned.

"How is that to happen when you have promised command of her as part of your returning squadron to Tom Pullings as an inducement to be your first on this pleasure trip? And Jack, I should not choose to sail twelve thousand nautical miles without your company, the only thing worse than being told by you incessantly that we can lose not a minute." Jack said nothing. "It is not, my dear, that I bear any grudge against you, for I understand entirely that none of this your doing. It seems paradoxical to me."

"There will be plenty of islands, I promise you, brother. I do not mean to cast such a pall. Why, we have never had such an opportunity. No, it ain't naval warfare, but it is a handsome prospect, I find, for us to serve the King and country whilst we may."

"May we return to the inn tonight, if you please? In two days’ time, we shall not be leaving _Surprise_ for a very long while." Stephen said. Jack looked at him and the colour rose in his face.

"Certainly, Stephen, just so." Jack said. "Will you not be taking a mate then?" Stephen had announced his intention to serve as _Surprise's_ surgeon. The truth was, aside from Amos Jacobs, he thought very little of any would be chirurgical colleagues. Dr. Jacobs was, last he had heard, engaged in the Mediterranean. Stephen dared not approach any of his like-minded anatomist fellows from the Royal Society to inquire if they should like to accompany him as mate, for it would be transparently evident all too soon that this voyage was not what it seemed and there would be far too many questions about who this "Mr. Adams" was and why he was on this expedition.

"I think not. It hardly seems necessary. A good loblolly boy will more than serve. It is not like we shall see any action of any type, with the blessing. I assume I shall be at leisure most of our way out. I cannot believe that we shall bear the imprimatur of the Royal Society." Stephen said, "I believe it will be one of the last decisions Wollaston will take as President. Poor man, I believe he shall be out before the end of the year. He was, unfortunately, not a politic choice."

"Really, Stephen? I knew nothing of it. I knew, of course, that poor Banks died whilst we was in Barcelona. Who shall be the next President?"

"Were I to wager, I should say Sir Humphrey Davy." Stephen said complacently.

"How do you find him, Stephen?"

"I revere the man greatly, but truthfully, he is surprisingly vain for a chemist and something of a coxcomb. He is, however, a scientist of the first order and I very much appreciated his gift of ether of nitrous oxide. Of course, my talents do not lie in that direction, whatever. I feel for Wollaston. He is much more the typical chemist - no politician. Sure, it must sting to be forced out in less than a year's time. It was so very kind of Sir Joseph Banks to draft that memorandum of endorsement for us. I had no idea of it, though he had urged me to consider such a trip back in February, before, he said, I would be too old and would regret never having gone."

 

Mr. John Adam arrived in Shelmerston the next afternoon, the day before their departure. He was close to Stephen in age, a nondescript looking man, though Stephen found him somehow vaguely familiar, perhaps a relative of someone he had met at some time. He was quiet, unassuming and affable. Mr. Adam would not end up in the coach after all. Meeting Stephen alone in the inn for a confidential interview before boarding _Surprise_ , they had discussed the situation. Given his official position on the voyage as an assistant or clerk to Stephen in his pursuit of natural philosophy, Mr. Adam had thought it preferable that he be given a cabin on the lower deck and to be permitted to mess with the gunroom, so as to not stand out. In view of how sparsely _Surprise_ was currently officered, with no third lieutenant, no Marine captain, and no midshipmen, they moved the Master’s cabin so that Mr. Adam could occupy the political advisor’s cabin and the adjacent third lieutenant’s cabin, with the wall between them removed. Stephen had thought there was much wisdom in this, though he doubted very much that the man had any inclination whatever in the natural philosophy line. From what he gathered, Adam was by training a lawyer of some type, though no barrister. Mr. Adam going to the lower deck was a far better arrangement than Stephen and Jack had experienced with the unfortunate Mr. Stanhope, the disagreeable Mr. Atkins and the rest of the envoy’s suite. Mr. Adam had come aboard completely alone, with little in the way of personal effects excepting huge amounts of books and ledgers. For that, Stephen and Jack were extremely grateful.

Mr. Adam was no sailor. It was not surprising in the least, for he had made one trip out to India in his relative youth and had made one trip back. He would prefer never to step foot aboard a ship again, but this had not been a pleasure trip for him; he had come at the bequest of government and was returning at the bequest of government, intensely desirous of never leaving the Indian subcontinent upon another ship ever again, if such a thing were possible. Stephen wondered how much of his seasickness was the association between sailing and previous experiences of nausea as was so often the case for those who came to sea travel late in life. Stephen was grateful that he himself had been shuttled between Catalunya, Ireland and France on ships as much as he had, early in childhood; for though no sailor, he very rarely suffered from seasickness or any nausea. Until they got out of the Bay of Biscay, Mr. Adam had stayed shut up for the most part in his cabin.

It was not until they were well on the way to Madeira that Mr. Adam and Stephen had occasion to be at table for dinner at the same time. Stephen took most of his meals with Jack, as was befitting his position as owner of the _Surprise_. Stephen made a point of eating with the gunroom on Sundays when Jack was invited and when Jack had the gunroom to the coach on Saturdays, but Mr. Adam had not yet been well enough to be in attendance. This Sunday afternoon, Stephen had introduced Mr. Adam (travelling as “Mr. William Adams”) to the officers of the gunroom at dinner and he and Mr. Adam lingered over the wine after the rest of the party had departed and they were alone. It was their first opportunity for conversation since meeting in the inn back in Shelmerston.

"Were you born in India, sir?" Stephen asked, filling Adam's glass with Madeira. Mr. Adam had remarked on how very capital the Madeira was and had drunk liberally, though Stephen thought he held his wine quite well for a not terribly large man. He gave no evidence of intoxication whatever except for a redness of his face.

"I was not. I came to Calcutta long ago, back in '96.” Mr. Adam said. “I was born in Scotland and educated in Britain, first at Charterhouse and then in Edinburgh. I believe the Admiral and I have a mutual acquaintance. My mother, Eleanora, was the sister of Lord Keith. She is long deceased, now, God bless her.” Stephen realised with a start that this was the resemblance he had noticed -- Mr. Adam did, in fact, bear a striking resemblance to Lord Keith around the eyes.

"Indeed! It is a small world, is it not?" Stephen said. “Well, here is to old friends.” He toasted and they drank.

"Yes, and it grows smaller daily. I am almost certain that we have met, before, Sir, your name is so very familiar, but this was the first I have left India in twenty-four years. Was you ever in India?"

"Long ago." Stephen said. "I was the ship's surgeon when the Admiral went out back in the year six. We docked in Bombay and Calcutta."

"The year six?" Mr.Adam said, frowning in concentration.

"Yes. The Admiral, then Captain Aubrey had a bit of a dust up with then Admiral Linois and managed to preserve the China Fleet."

"Ah," Mr. Adam said and then his eyes widened; he visibly blanched and wore an expression of realisation. He said, "Of course, now I recall perfectly, Captain Aubrey and his great contribution to the Company." He fixed Stephen with such a frankly curious and baldly examining look that Dr. Maturin felt himself becoming deeply offended. He felt himself go pale, his hand began to tremble and he rose quickly.

"Mr. Adam, I pray you excuse me, sir. I have lingered too long and I have a patient to attend to in the sick bay and no real assistant." Stephen said, bowing.

"Of course, of course," Mr. Adam said, standing and bowing and Stephen left.

_I have barely made the acquaintance of Mr. John Adam, the essential reason for our voyage to India, but I begin to feel a misapprehension about the entire affair, or at the very least, the on board simulation of a friendship between us for the benefit of any would be onlookers. It is not that he is disagreeable or uninteresting, for that I could bear far more easily. He seems an affable man and a pleasant companion. Much to my great sadness, I make no mistake, I believe, in asserting that the ill bred, naked curiosity with which he beheld me this afternoon following dinner when I mentioned JA’s service to the East India Company was heavily laden with association, that is memories of the events of 1806. I believe, namely, that he somehow recalls that it was I who was responsible for Richard Canning’s death back in the year six. I should feel no uneasiness about the entire business, for it was a matter of honour and conducted thus but it occurs to me that I very well may be an object of curiosity once we raise Calcutta and my greatest fear is that I should be put in the position of bearing an affront or, for that matter, many affronts vis-à-vis Diana. I would assume that few in India would be cognizant of the fact that Diana and I were wed and I cannot tell even if they did know this if that knowledge would still the flapping of tongues or if it would, in fact, encourage them._

_I see no possible remedy for this situation. My poor dear soul has been gone almost six years now, may God bless her and keep her, and it pains me to realise in some unexpected way how very fresh my grief remains. Not in the day to day comportment of my affairs, far from it, but I could not in the least bear the very subtlest of ill-mannered jibes, meant to be a slight towards her at this point or far worse, open rudeness or malicious levity at her expense. I do not know how I should comport myself if such were given to me. Suddenly, I positively dread our arrival in Calcutta. I pray that what is given to misery is indeed a gift to Tyche._

 

 

A week out of Funchal roads, Stephen had been enjoying the uncommonly fine weather. It seemed all the finer for the fact that he would shortly be missing winter in Britain entirely. He relished the opportunity to swim every morning with Jack, so much so that his now stiff relations with Mr. Adam barely concerned him. Soon they would be zigzagging between Brazil and the coast of Africa with scores of virgin islands before him. He greedily looked forward to taking those first steps and seeing flora and fauna unknown to science. His sick bay was empty, the only occupant now being his nominal loblolly boy, Owens, who had fallen whilst ascending the foretop in the Bay of Biscay in a state that Stephen presumed was inebriation or close to it. He had not been injured very badly, merely a greenstick fracture. Stephen felt Owens would be as useful a loblolly boy as anyone aboard.

It was not with the intention of seeing patients, therefore, that Stephen had gone to the dispensary to get a draught for Jack and had found Samuel Jennings standing in the empty sick bay waiting for him.

“Mr. Jennings,” Stephen said looking at him, “What may I do for you?”

Samuel Jennings looked up at him with deeply bloodshot eyes, leaned forward and vomited profusely at Stephen’s feet. Dr. Maturin caught the man in his arms as he collapsed, noticing the bright red glossiness of the vomitus that covered his shoes. Stephen, hale from his time in Catalunya was somewhat less than ten stone himself now but Jennings, though a good two hands taller than Stephen, was even lighter in his arms and with great effort, he half-dragged him towards the cot as he called for his loblolly boy, who came running and helped to lift the prostrate Jennings into the cot. Seeing it was Jennings, his loblolly boy’s face changed and as soon as Jennings was in the cot, he half fled.

Half an hour later, Jennings regained consciousness as Stephen sponged his forehead.

“You are very ill, Mr. Jennings.” Stephen said. “I would advise you to leave off drink for your health. You are bleeding from the stomach. I confess myself astonished to see you in such a state. I have known you these many years and have always known you to be an upright fellow, well-liked and respected by your mess. I believe I have never seen you in drink in all these years.” Jennings moaned in pain, clutching his belly.

“I beg pardon, Doctor. I should have not come this way for the world, but I was so sick and I knew that you would set me to rights.”

“You have lost a good deal of weight recently.” Stephen said, looking at him.

“Sir, I am turned out of my mess.”

“Indeed? I am amazed.” Stephen said. Jennings was a Sethian and had first come on _Surprise_ back in the year 1813. The Sethians were a tight knit group. Stephen had never known them to ever have a serious falling out with a co-religionist. The man started retching and Stephen reached for the basin for him as he was predictably sick. The vomitus was bloody, the blood was showing black now, looking like coffee grounds, indicating coagulation. “Shall I ask the master to assign you to a new mess?”

“Sir, no one shall mess with me, for it has got out.”

“Which has got out?” Stephen said, frowning.

“That I have been curst, sir.”

“Oh,” Stephen said, “I see. Well, you are to stay here for the time being and to have soup every three hours, should you be able to keep it down. We shall start with the smallest amount, merely a teaspoonful, when an hour has passed without you vomiting.” Stephen looked up expectantly and found that Jennings had lost consciousness. He sighed and got a small crate to elevate the man’s legs, padding it with a blanket and sat down next to him, waiting for him to regain consciousness.  
  
Stephen called for the loblolly boy, Owens, who came in red-faced.

“Mr. Jennings is very ill and he must have portable soup in an hour or two, if we might wake him then. Please see to the galley and ask them to heat some."

“No, sir, I canna.” Owens blurted out.

“You cannot what?” Stephen said, examining his face over his spectacles.

Owens, apologising profusely, explained to Stephen that he was very sorry but he had now thought better of it and perhaps he was not cut out to be a loblolly boy after all. He was very, very sorry but he was certain that Stephen would find someone better suited on _Surprise_. He was only a poor, illiterate foremast jack and all things considered, it would be better for him to go back to his position as a topman, now that his arm had healed so handsomely. Stephen looked at him coolly and dismissed him, having no interest in compulsion of any sort at the moment and missed Padeen sorely.

Stephen went up to the great cabin. There was no sign of Jack. Killick was inside, stowing some of the silver he had just finished polishing.

“Killick, I should be very grateful if you might assist me with a patient. I know it is not in the purview of your responsibility, but it merely involves feeding him some portable soup twice or thrice a day.”Killick did not raise any objection.

“What times, sir?”

“Well, I must see when he regains consciousness. I will return to the sick berth and then I shall come and tell you. If you could go and ask them to heat it in the galley, I should appreciate it. I expect Jennings shall regain consciousness shortly.” The change in Killick’s face at the mention of Jennings’ name was dramatic. His normal expression, shrewlike in the extreme, now more resembled a cornered murine and his eyes darted back and forth as he struggled to find the words.

“Your Honour, I don’t rightly believe I am well-suited for such a task, begging your pardon, sir." Killick said at last, hesitantly and stiffly. Stephen frowned.

“It is feeding soup to a sick man. You have done so countless times. I can personally attest to your qualifications, Killick. I should consider it a favour, a very great favour.”

“Your loblolly boy...” Killick started.

“I apparently have no loblolly boy.” Stephen said, “I have a very sick man lying in a cot who needs to be cared for.”

"Your Honour, it is like this..." Killick said, hesitantly, wiping his hands across his slops.

 

 

“Why, Stephen, here you are.” Jack said coming into the great cabin and taking off his coat. “I have hardly seen you since breakfast. You have been busy, I find? I thought you should be up on deck looking for a likely island.”

“We have a vexing situation. It appears that _Surprise_ has evidently shipped a Jonah.”

“Pray do not say that, Stephen, even in jest.” Jack said in a hushed tone, handing him a can of beer.

“It is no jest. I have just been so informed by Killick, only very reluctantly. You remember Samuel Jennings?”

“The Sethian? Mizzen topman, starboard watch?”

“Yes, the same. It turns out that he came aboard after having been cursed," Stephen said. “Cursed by a woman -- his wife in some manner, I presume -- to whom he had apparently given the pox. And he has had the pox repeatedly since we last saw him. More to the point, he has also been to a quacksalver and I suspect that he has been repeatedly dosed with large amounts of calomel or far worse, the actual corrosive sublimate, the pity. He equates his present infirm condition with this curse and what is worse, the rest of the crew does as well. I will never credit it, how apparently sensible, intelligent, productive men fall prey to the most rank superstition, the most absurd tripe; it is no different than taking a hen from a flock and splashing carmine across its breast and then sitting and watching as the rest of the flock peck the unfortunate to her death, but in this case, it is whispers."

"Was he such a fool as to divulge this to anyone in the crew?"

"No. The brother of the woman I mentioned is aboard, was one of his messmates. His brother-in-law. "”The wages of sin is death”” quoth she, “As you have curst me with death, so I shall curse you and anyone who would help you in any way.""

"Oh, dear." Jack said, alarmed.

"Their full term baby was stillborn and deformed, she presumed because of the pox, which may well have been true. No one on board will have anything to do with him. He is completely shunned by them. My loblolly boy has deserted me rather than feed Jennings some portable soup. Killick has also refused even in the face of an attractive bribe."

"Dear Lord, this is very bad." Jack said. "He cannot possibly perform his duties if no one will have anything to do with him." He said, somberly.

"He is very ill, Jack. Jennings will not be performing any duties. That is how this nonsense about the curse came out. The brother in law did not believe it until Jennings fell ill in the last two days. I do not know if he shall ever recover enough to leave the sick berth."

"What exactly is wrong with him?"

"I suspect he has mercury poisoning and it is killing him. I must attempt to purge him as much as I possibly may, though I very much doubt his life may be spared. It is a delicate thing and he is, for the moment, far too weak for such an attempt. I have rain water for him to drink. I must go and interview him further as I feed him and then I must do a thorough physical examination. This is the most singular situation I have ever encountered. Can you not prevail upon them as captain of the ship?"

" _Surprise_ is not travelling as a naval command, as you well know. I cannot threaten them with nothing to back my threat up. I cannot single out one or two men to obey such an order. A sailor may abide a great deal, Stephen but whether it is rational or no, they see Jennings' condition and believe that this curse is the contagion. I shall go see him directly, if you believe he is up to it. Surely they will see you and that you are not affected and they will come to their senses." Jack said, though in no measure did he actually believe this.

"Perhaps if you might come by late in the afternoon." Stephen said.

 

Dr.Maturin returned to the great cabin at dinner time.

"Jennings has cachexia." Stephen said, closing the door.

"What is that?"

"A wasting disease. He is wasting away. He most certainly will die in time, though I cannot say how long it will be. It could be in a matter or weeks or perhaps months. It is difficult to say without knowing exactly with what he was dosed and with how much. He took the last dose last week."

"Oh, dear." Jack said. "What might we do?"

"Purges, nursing care, special diet and a course of physic. He will soon be completely bed-ridden and must be fed. I will give him physic, Jack, but I believe it will be to little effect."

"Lord." Jack said. "Shall we put into Brazil and put him down there, in hospital?"

"Well, there is a dilemma, Admiral dear: which is crueler, for him to die on a ship full of men he has known a decade who utterly shun him or amongst complete strangers, few of whom would speak his sole tongue and who would regard him as a heretic?"

"We could leave him in hospital at the Cape. At least they would speak English, I dare say." Jack said.

"I will consider of it." Stephen said. "Jack, I need your help, my dear. We must sling a hammock and move him so he may be lashed in when he is alone. I cannot do it by myself."

 

A week later, Jack sat at his table looking at the charts and sighed. This was bad. This was very bad. He had never even seen a similar situation and his lifetime of experience in the Royal Navy had not prepared him to deal with this eventuality. As they sailed now, he did not possess the means to compel cooperation of the men beyond their desire to please him. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed it did not matter so very much. Jennings was certainly not essential to the running of the ship and when he finally did die, things would go on as they should. But a lifetime aboard had sensitised Jack to the way the wind blew through the lower deck and he could feel that _Surprise_ was not now a happy ship, in no way as happy as she should be. No, it would not lead to anything as extreme as mutiny, but there was an underlying ugliness there, an ill will that made him uneasy.

Worse still, he very greatly feared that these events were ruining the trip out for Stephen. Jack had agreed to the voyage immediately because he had thought the enterprise would be the trip of a lifetime for Stephen. Instead, between Mr. Adam and Jennings, Stephen was looking none too pleased. Jack could not bring himself to pry and ask what had happened with Adam, who seemed to him a completely agreeable sort. He was alarmed by the fact that Stephen had been practicing shooting pistols up on deck with his very fine Joe Manton pieces, but he pushed that thought out of his mind. Jennings was dying, Stephen was the only one who would care for him and he was incapable of neglecting the man in order to spend time pursuing his natural philosophy, whether it was working on his specimens, writing or taking lengthy expeditions.  
  
Jack now regretted that he had not had more merchant experience. Perhaps he could sit down and speak of the matter with Pullings, who had after all been in Indiamen. But it was delicate, very delicate. Jennings was, as far as Jack was concerned, a Jonah. All that Stephen had said, yes, it was true, he was poisoned, he was dying from the poison, but was that not a type of ill luck in and of itself? How many men went to quacksalvers to be cured of the pox? How many ended up dying a long, gruesome painful death afterwards? Could Jennings’ wife’s curse not have affected that end? Was it so unreasonable for the men to want to have nothing to do with him? Jack did not think so. Stephen for all his talk of “causality,” “ _cum hoc ergo propter hoc_ ," " _post hoc ergo propter hoc_ ,” "Aristotle's four causes" and “rank superstition” had not spent his entire life aboard a ship as Jack had. Things had happened that defied explanation and Jack had a tendency to believe that the in some matters, the ignorant were more wise to these happenings than the wise themselves.

On a day of sweet sailing, with mild breezes of warm winds, Stephen had asked him to carry Jennings up and put him in a chair on deck to take some air and Jack had of course done so. He had seen the faces of the men. No, he was in no way afraid that this curse would affect him, but he realised his belief in his own invincibility with regard to the curse was because of his association with Stephen. Stephen was entirely immune, obviously. Everyone on board accepted this fact at face value. The doctor might be the most hopeless lubber yet born and the natural victim of cleats, companionways and hatches but God had smiled upon him in his strange Papist ways and no Jonah's curse would ever affect him, the same way he was immune to gaol fever or scarlatina or the great pox or any of the other dread diseases Dr. Maturin seemed to wade through with impunity. Jack knew that nothing terrible would ever happen as long as he was with Stephen. Stephen’s expression had spoken volumes as he watched Jack gently lift Jennings and carry him and they had walked up on deck together, Stephen making a lane for him as he carried the poor man up and then gently laid him in a chair on deck to get fresh air, where Stephen sat next to him. That night, Stephen had been especially physically demonstrative. They made love and Stephen had sought to entwine himself in Jack’s limbs in Jack’s cot all night and Jack thought without a doubt that this overflowing of affection was connected to his rejection of what Stephen called “the most odious rank superstition” in his very public display of tending to Jennings.

Jack wondered how much longer Jennings could possibly last. There was no hope of recovery, none at all, so Stephen himself had said. Jack caught himself wishing the poor man would die in his sleep sooner rather than later and then reproached himself harshly. That was pure wickedness to wish any man ill or death, even in the name of saving him suffering whilst simultaneously reckoning on how much happier the ship would be. “Dear God, forgive me.” Jack said aloud, quietly and he knocked on the exposed wood of the arm of his elbow chair, thankful not to be a superstitious cove.


End file.
